


Closing Time

by viiemzee



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-13
Updated: 2014-01-13
Packaged: 2018-01-08 15:55:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1134619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viiemzee/pseuds/viiemzee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Why are you sitting in my booth?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Closing Time

**Author's Note:**

> So I used the song 'Closing Time' by Semisonic as a guide to what's happening in the story. You can just listen to the song and follow the lyrics to get into the mood! Enjoy!

Santana sat at the bar, alone, a drink melting slowly in her hands as water droplets languidly raced down the sides. She stared at the drink forlornly, not really paying attention to the clock. She didn't care for the time, only the fact that she had very few dollars left and that this was her sixth – seventh? – drink of the night.

She was always alone, never really cared for a drinking buddy. They always made her leave too early, or else stay out way later than she wanted to. She preferred to be alone and maybe pick up a stranger to take home with her eventually.

So she sat alone, as she usually did on Friday nights, in  _her_  booth that Shannon Beiste, the owner of the bar, always kept for her, with a bowl of assorted nuts placed strategically on the side.

And she didn't expect this night to be any different than the past few Friday nights, thank you very much.

So she was surprised when she noticed somebody walking in her general direction, actually striding towards her. She sighed and looked up at the woman who was nursing her own drink in her hand, who sidled up into the booth in front of her. Santana raised an eyebrow at her and the blonde smiled sweetly back.

"You're in my booth," Santana said, slowly and matter-of-factly.

"My name's Brittany."

"Why are you in my booth?"

"You're cute."

"That does not excuse you sitting in my booth."

"Want a drink? It's on me."

Santana sighed and crossed her arms as she leaned back in her seat, raising her eyebrows. "Explain you sitting in my booth first and I might consider accepting a drink from a total stranger."

"I'm not a total stranger," Brittany grinned toothily, cheekily. "You know my name. In fact, I think you're more of a stranger to me. I don't know yours."

Santana raised an eyebrow again and gave Brittany a quick once over.

"Santana."

"Oh. Exotic."

"So, that drink?"

Brittany nodded. "Personally, I like scotch. What about you?"

"Vodka."

"Sure."And she was gone and came back two minutes later with the drinks, just as Santana was thinking to herself that maybe she should just up and leave… she hadn't seen this blonde get the drink, maybe she had slipped something in it.

But she seemed sweet.

Santana decided to accept the drink but not drink it. So when Brittany arrived she thanked her, took the drink in her hand, and set it down next to her.

"So why are you in my booth?"

"Because you're cute. Really cute," Brittany replied simply. "Sexy, even."

Santana wanted to share the compliment but she felt like if she did she might invite more advances from this stranger.

"And I was wondering if maybe I could get to know you a little better…?" Brittany continued, reaching a hand out to Santana and she thought she was going to place it on her own (big No-No. Nobody touched Santana since Quinn broke up with her for that Broadway fanatic midget). But surprisingly the hand continued on to Santana's drink near her hand, and she took it to her lips and drank.

After she had taken a hearty gulp, she set the glass back down – now with only half its contents still in it – and winked at Santana.

"Did you really think I drugged it? I'm not a psycho. So, you wanna talk or not?"

* * *

So Santana talked, even though she didn't really want to in the first place. But she did. Something about the blonde, the way she spoke and the way she moved her hands and the way she cocked her head to one side. She was entrancing and graceful and – god damn – beautiful. And Santana found herself talking, and drinking, and telling herself it was ok to accept drinks from this stranger, and telling Brittany things that she didn't want to originally tell her.

"So you were dumped by this Quinn…"

"Right," she said around a mouthful of gin, the edges of her vision going blurry after so many drinks now.

"And now you're alone and you don't like human contact."

"Pretty much."

"If I was her I would have never broken up with you."

Santana raised her eyebrow, and then gave a small smirk. "Well then, is this hinting something?"

"If you want it to…"

"Last call!" the barman rang out, jangling a bell for emphasis. A few groans surfaced and there was a rustling of feet to either the door or the bar. How long had she been here?

She got up, grabbing her coat and turning to look at Brittany. The bar was emptying rapidly, and soon they would be the only ones left.

"Are you coming or what?" Santana asked, and Brittany nodded, grabbing her own jacket and following her out just as the barman started to sing.

"Closing time, open all the doors and let you out into the world…"

* * *

"I have seven siblings, I'm the middle child."

"I have a little sister," Brittany said as she sipped at a drink at another bar, a Manhattan. Santana had a glass of whiskey instead, even though she knew she shouldn't mix her drinks. But whatever. She felt reckless, fearless tonight.

"I have three brothers and four sisters. Two brothers are older than me and three of the sisters, and the rest are younger."

"Do you miss them?" Brittany asked, finishing off her drink.

"Sometimes. I used to tuck the little ones into bed. I…I really miss that. They were always so cute and…yeah."

"Last call!" rang out again, and the two of them groaned. "Finish up, whiskey, beer, whateva ya got!" the bartender yelled out, and Santana downed her drink and grabbed her jacket again. They reluctantly shuffled to the door, and as they did, they heard the bartender yell at all his departing tenants.

"Ya know, the night ain't ova yet. You dun have ta go home, but ya sure as 'ell can't stay he'e!"

* * *

All night they jumped from bar to bar, each one closing right after they had finished their first drink. One of the bar tenders was a large, German lady who had yelled at them to 'Gather up their jackets, and move it to the exits!'. Santana gathered she hadn't realized that that rhymed.

Another bar tender, just as the two of them were leaving, yelled out to all his customers that he was closing up, and then finished off with a 'I hope you've all found a friend tonight!'. At that, just as Santana heard that, she turned to look at Brittany, who looked at her back. For a second, a pulse of electricity traveled through the both of them, and Brittany reached her hand out and grabbed Santana's, smiling at her.

* * *

They ended up in Central Park, the ground spinning and their skin flushed. Santana's heels were too high, and Brittany's hands were out of control. They were having the time of their life, and all that was entertaining was a stupid pigeon who was bobbing his head as he walked, much like a chicken.

"He's so cute!" Brittany cooed, and Santana burst out laughing.

"He's funny!" Santana confirmed, and the offended pigeon waddled away, eliciting more laughs.

"You're drunk."

" _You're_ drunk!"

"We're both drunk then!"

"I'm sleepy," Santana suddenly muttered, and Brittany nodded.

"My apartment is far away."

"Mine is closer," Santana muttered, turning to look at Brittany and giving a large grin. "Unless you have plans…"

Brittany didn't give her time to react, she lunged forward and kissed her, sending sparks and shivers up her spine and into her brain, exploding her eyes with light and her nerves with numbness. And when the blonde pulled away, she was smirking.

"I know who I want to go home with tonight…"

* * *

When Santana watched Brittany wake up the next morning as she sat by her window sill with a steaming mug of coffee in her hand, she found herself thinking back to something that Quinn had said to her after she had walked out of their apartment, bags packed.

" _You know, Santana, every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end. Something good will come out of this. For both of us."_

And Santana knew that walking out of that last bar, when it had closed for the night, that had been her ending.

And she hoped with all her heart that this blonde in her bed, snoring lightly, was her new beginning.

 


End file.
